Telefon Tel Aviv - Immolate Yourself

TELEFON TEL AVIV - IMMOLATE YOURSELF (BPITCH CONTROL)

The passing of Charlie Cooper, who tragically died several days before this album was due to be released, brings into sharp relief the fact that Telefon Tel Aviv were on the verge of something big. Although Joshua Eustis has at the time of writing announced plans to carry on, at least in a live capacity, “Immolate Yourself” focuses the fact that the duo were on the cusp, and the subtle, poignant music contained therein only helps to amplify this.

Although Telefon Tel Aviv’s debut “Fahrenheit Far Enough” in 2001 was critically acclaimed, I felt that their recent work wasn’t a patch on it, and it would take something special for me to feel that they were on the right track. Eustis and Cooper do this immediately with the soaring grandeur of “The Birds”, which is as close to epic synthpop as you will ever get, combining the catchy chorus of “The Birds remind me of what we need” alongside staccato drums and rolling melodies.

The comparison with Canada’s Junior Boys is perhaps a lazy one and I can only apologise for this, but given the relative similarity with hushed vocals and a tendency to lurk in the cosy bathos of minor keys , I’m sure you can forgive me. The difference though is that TTA express and display a far wider range of emotions. After the glory of the opening track, “M” and “Your Mouth” stutter somewhat in a turgid procession, but matters are restored with the new wave percussive sheen of “Helen of Troy”, which draws upon a rich legacy of poppy UK New Wave and is over before you know it in 3 minutes flat. The retro feel is continued by “Stay Away from Being Maybe”, although it’s accompanied by an aesthetic that draws from noise more than anything else, as squalls of noise threaten to flatten the subtle, elastic bass. This is artfully constructed pop that retains a brevity alongside the forays into more experimental sound, but if there’s one criticism, it’s that the vocals often fail to register.

The emotive side of “Immolate Yourself” takes an unexpected turn with the somnambulent drones of “Your Every Idol”, which I found failed to reach a satisfying climax especially when the wheezing organs demanded it, instead almost falling over liked a collapsed runner at the end. Fortunately normal service is resumed with the final two tracks, which includes the single “You are the worst thing in the world”. There’s a sort of jarring, unfinished quality to the final album title track which appealed immediately, almost lo-fi in it’s aesthetic, but laced with a golden melody hidden amongst clattering drums and keyboard noise. Ragged Glory as it were.

It’s difficult to talk about this album with Cooper’s passing, as it’s certainly littered with some second rate material, but there is genuine pop brilliance ensconced within. Listen and reflect on possibly might what have been.

Toby Frith